


Where is my prescription? (Doctor, doctor, please listen)

by Just_an_Awkward_Person



Series: Pull the fire alarm (I never meant any harm) [2]
Category: Assassination Classroom, Fran Bow (Video Game)
Genre: Akabane Karma Needs a Hug, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, But overall, But we all knew that, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Murder, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Human Experimentation, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Violence, Tragedy, but this ain't gonna be a happy story, i'm trying not to scare you guys, no one's in a happy situation, this gonna be one bumpy ride, we'll have some happy in between
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29097846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_an_Awkward_Person/pseuds/Just_an_Awkward_Person
Summary: Oswald Asylum will turn even the most lucid ones a bit unstable. Where the lines dividing the authentic and mundane from the made-up and macabre are deceptive at best and enjoy altogether disappearing at worst. No one can pinpoint exactly what is it about the place that makes it so eerie. The despair and loneliness that clings to the walls of every bedroom? The suffocating disregard coming from the therapist's office? The blood crawling up from the basement? Whatever it is, no one at the asylum can escape it. Not the psychiatrists, not the nurses, not the guards, and least of all the young patients. It's a somber symphony, and every single one of the players is aware the finale will be tragic.OrSnapshots in non-chronological order of life at Oswald Asylum, through different eras and different perspectives. From its early conception as a research center, inspired by dreams, to its last glorious night, as it burned to the ground and dissapeared.
Relationships: Akabane Karma & Dr. Marcel Deern, Akabane Karma & Edgar (Security Guard), Akabane Karma & Elizabeth Dagenhart, Akabane Karma & Oswald Asylum Kids, Clara Buhalmet & Mia Buhalmet, Dr. Marcel Deern & Dr. Oswald Harrison, Dr. Oswald Harrison & Elizabeth Dagenhart, Dr. Oswald Harrison & Joselyn Dagenhart, Elizabeth Dagenhart & Joselyn Dagenhart
Series: Pull the fire alarm (I never meant any harm) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114265
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Where is my prescription? (Doctor, doctor, please listen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A morning at Oswald Asylum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sexual harrasment and implied abuse, take care people

Nurse Blanca wakes him up, half-closed eyes and a yawn fighting its way out her mouth. Must have taken the night shift. He blinks a few times to get used to the bright fluorescent light stabbing his eyes and some faraway part of his brain takes note of the fact her eyelashes aren’t curled, and she has no lipstick on. The ticking of the clock seems to be the only sound at this hour.

_Tick-tock._

Nurse Blanca frowns and her shoulders tense and he wonders why for a second-

_Tick-tock._

Ah, right. He turns his eyes towards the frayed threads in his blanket, fingers tugging at them, and ignores the way she sighs in relief. He plays with the nearest hole in his mattress. It’s not very big, unlike the one near his feet. He can barely fit his pinkie inside this one.

_Tick-tock._

“Come on Fran, time to start the day.” _It’s Karma, not Fran._ Saying it wouldn’t change a thing, he just drags himself to sit in the bed, feet dangling. There’s an apathetic undertone in her forced enthusiasm, and he’s real curious about what kind of face she’s making. He bites the inside of his cheek and examines her neat brown shoes. There’s still some shine in them, are they new?

_Tick-tock._

His socked feet touch the ground and the cold leaks through the wool. The shiver that runs through his body is a bit hard to suppress. Nurse Blanca gives him another weary sigh and walks away from his side of the room. Off to wake Phil? Or Demian?

_Tick-tock._

His bed is the farthest from the door, the fact she chose to wake him up first is curious. The corner of his mouth twitches upwards. It’s easy to indulge in the fantasy that she favors him. That she dreads his presence the least among all the kids. Makes something warm crawls across his chest.

_Tick-tock._

He makes his bed, extending the blanket in a practiced way that covers all the holes. A few pats to his pillow better distribute the stuffing inside. He steps back and examines it all with a satisfied nod.

_Tick-tock._

Whimpers and whining start filling the room. He resists the urge to turn around and look, mindful of Nurse Blanca’s presence still in the room. It’s Phil no doubt, Demian would be shouting.

_Tick-tock._

He grips his arms with force. Inhale. Exhale. Can he leave the room? Probably not yet. The clown from the painting is still in the painting. How many black tiles are there? One, two, three, four, five…

_Tick-tock._

* * *

The shower feels like an ice-bucket being thrown over him.

“The boiler is broken.” Is the explanation he manages to coax out of Nurse Blanca while she rummages through the cart with the clean laundry, looking for clothes to give him “Someone will come fix it soon Fran.”

He has the itch to ask when _soon_ will be but holds it in when he sneaks a peak at her face. Eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed, like she feels a migraine coming. Best not to inconvenience her too much in this state, lest he lose his playground privileges and be stuck inside the whole week.

He shivers in his towel for a good five minutes before a shirt and pants are shoved into his arms and he is told to change quickly while she goes get the other kids to drag them in. He heeds her orders with the speed of someone who knows he’ll be shoved outside the bathroom half-naked if he isn’t finished and gone by the time she’s back.

(The only place without cameras is the bathroom, after all. He really doesn’t want to hear how pretty he looked fresh out the shower the next time they have a _transaction_.)

After skipping the stairs and avoiding looking at the Yellow Door behind the wire netting, as well as the hanged lady in the pretty dress by the reception, he steels his nerves and steps into the wide space that serves as the security guard’s post. It’s such a shame one needs to walk through it if they want to reach all the important places further down the hall.

It’s even more terrible that if he wants to check out the schedule he needs to stop next to _his_ desk. Which he won’t do. No need to sour an otherwise acceptable morning. Anything vital the Witch will scream at him. He can walk by in a quick pace and reach the other side. Without any incidents. Ten long strides, eighteen normal steps. He can do it.

He manages to take eight steps before a hand tries to grab his arm. He dodges with practiced ease.

“My, my.” Edgar purrs with twisted amusement, thankfully not trying to grab him again “Where you going to pass by without saying hello? How vulgar of you Fran, and here I thought you were my good boy.”

A shiver runs down his spine. If there’s one person he wishes to never hear his real name from, it’s this security guard. He already feel worms crawling under his skin every time they speak. He can’t imagine how much worse it would feel if Edgar ever said _Karma_.

He’d probably never want to hear his own name again.

A look towards the hallway, bloody but still preferable, doesn’t go unnoticed by Edgar, who smirks and tuts in disapproval. The large man blocks the path “What did I say Fran? Say hello to your buddy first!”

He plasters on the fakest smile he can muster. Edgar laughs and it’s horrible.

“Come on,” and the man gestures to the bulletin board, unbearably smug “won’t you at least check your schedule?”

He sighs, knowing this isn’t a fight he can win. Maybe if he plays along Edgar will get bored and let him go have breakfast. That’d be really nice of him, which means it probably won’t happen.

He focuses on the printed paper and tries to ignore the quiet whispers from the window. The way a pair of eyes rake over his whole body like they are mentally undressing him. From his feet, to his ankles, slowly roaming through his legs, taking it’s wicked time at his tights, and going up…

“I’m done.” He declares as loud as he dares, which is not much. Resists the urge to cover himself with his hands. Instead he moves away from the desk with stiff limbs and a racing heart. The whispers from the window increase.

“So quickly?” He hates the disappointment in Edgar’s voice. He loathes it.

“Yes. Now let me through.”

“Such a demanding tone of voice. Let me think about it.” Edgar says. Hand in his chin as if thinking hard. He has the overwhelming urge to pull at his stupid red hair and scream “For the passing fee… what about a kiss?”

It’s one of the most innocent things Edgar has ever requested of him. It’s easy to agree.

* * *

Breakfast is a quiet affair, even with the bile he feels rising up his throat and the bloody message THEY ARE DEAD on the right wall.

He takes a bite. He chews. He swallows. He repeats. He’s not even sure what he’s eating but it doesn’t matter. It might even be for the best he can’t taste it, knowing the food they serve. He takes a bite. He chews. He swallows. He repeats.

Once he’s done he pushes the plate forward and puts plastic knife and fork on top.

Witch Gladys humphs at his empty dish and mutters something about pretentious orphans. He pretends not to hear her and for ten minutes they do a splendid job of ignoring one another. He even pinches himself when black blobs start forming from the ground. The other kids trickle in and behind them comes an even more disheveled Nurse Blanca.

Witch Gladys takes a tray with food and coffee and places it on Nurse Blanca’s unbelieving hands. The old woman feigns blindness to Nurse Blanca’s pleading expression and turns back to sit at her chair and continue reading the newspaper.

Nurse Blanca stares at the tray with wide eyes and looks a second away from crying. He feels momentary pity for her. It’s too bad she can’t dump the terrible job on someone else.

At that moment Annie sits next to him and he decides to put Nurse Blanca out of his mind.

Big mistake.

It’s a few minutes later, Hadley teaching him a new nursery rhyme, that a bony hand pulls at his shoulder, long unpainted nails gripping tight. Witch Gladys dumps the thrice cursed tray on his hands and orders he take breakfast to Edgar, because Nurse Blanca is too tired to do it.

(They both know. They _know_ and that’s why they don’t want to go. They know and they’re telling him to go, to do the undesirable job on their behalf. They _know_. They just don’t care.)

* * *

“How do you feel today Fran?”

“My name’s not Fran.” He states, because he’s stubborn and he’s petty.

Dr. Deern sighs, as if he’s the one suffering. He sneers at the doctor.

They play their normal game. Dr. Deern asking questions and him being noncommittal at answering them. The doctor growing more frustrated, and him more rebellious. They’ve done it a thousand times already. He suspects they’ll do it a thousand more. Now if only the walls could stop dripping he could relax and get used to this.

“We’re just trying to help you Fran. Why can’t you see that?”

He snorts, wide-eyed and disbelieving at how someone can be so blind.

* * *

“We should put it in a pot and take care of it!” Hadley exclaims with all of her usual cheer.

The four of them stare at her.

“What?” She pouts. “Come on brats! Support your older sister!”

He rolls his eyes and looks closely at the weird, purple flower they’ve found while exploring the playground. It’s tiny. Hadley should know better than suggesting to take it inside.

Nothing grows at Oswald Asylum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! This work will be somewhat darker than IGYCS given that in that story our main focus is healing while in this one we're still in the midst of the bad things happening. Hope I was able to give off a bit of that eerie atmosphere. That said, IGYCS is still the main work of the series so the update schedule for this one is not yet defined. On other news, IGYCS will be moving its weekly update to Fridays, bc I'll need the endorphin shot that day. So, this week we'll have a chapter on Tueday as a farewell to our Tuesday updates and one on Friday as a welcome party to our new schedule. Two chapters in one week!
> 
> Give kudos, comment, and bookmark, if you liked! It's always nice to chat with you in the comments, take care!

**Author's Note:**

> Just want to point out that this work in no way intends to reflect actual mental institutions. I'm trying to do my research, and anyone with actual experiences is welcome to reach out, but it should be said that Oswald Asylum is NOT meant to be used as an example of actual mental hospitals. Oswald Asylum, as you'll see the deeper we delve into its history, has a much darker purpose and has never intended to actually help its patients to recover from their traumatic experiences. Do your own research if you're truly curious about actual psych wards, never be afraid to seek help, and take care of yourselves ppl! Rant aside, to anyone going through a difficult time, I hope you read this message and receive my mental hugs. You're all lovely people and I wish you all the happiness in the world ^-^


End file.
